


Libertine Liaisons

by RoyaltyOverReality



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: Alternate Universe, Everyone's in their 20's, Non-Explicit, Other, Sex Work, So many aliases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyaltyOverReality/pseuds/RoyaltyOverReality
Summary: After his family cuts ties with him for his irresponsible lifestyle, Touga became a male escort to pay his tuition. While he has had many powerful and influential clients from all over the world, he's never dealt with a client like this before. Cross posted from Pillowfort.
Kudos: 2





	Libertine Liaisons

**Author's Note:**

> This is currently a one shot, but I might add more on to it when I'm not working on so many other projects. I hope you enjoy the story!

Touga Kiryuu spent an awful lot of time in hotels for someone who had lived in Paris for years. The second he was old enough, he had shocked his family by running off to Europe. His parents had allowed him to spend a year of debauchery in Italy, and then the South of France. He would come home after Amsterdam, they said. Then Amsterdam turned into Berlin, which turned into Paris, which turned into London, which turned into Paris again. Britain had been far too, well, British for his tastes.

Then he went back to Italy. He bounced from Florence to Venice, from Rome to Milan. He had been in Monaco when his parents first suggested cutting all ties with him. He had returned to Paris once again when his younger sister, Nanami, had run out of ways to convince them not to.

He hadn’t been particularly worried about getting by. He had always been intelligent, so he had been able to get into a modest university. It didn’t have the prestige of the Sorbonne, but he was able to study Art History. It almost managed to hold his ever-fleeting interest, and there were plenty of attractive girls in the program. It helped that the classes weren’t particularly difficult.

The only thing about his coursework that ever posed an issue for him was paying tuition. He had been a waiter for the better part of three weeks before deciding that no degree was worth that sort of debasement. He was considering dropping out of school when he came across an ad online. He didn’t respond to it. Instead, he made a few ads of his own and, within a few months, all of his worries about paying his tuition had disappeared.

He marketed himself to both men and women separately, specifying himself as a straight man who only slept with women on one site and a straight man willing to sleep with gay men on another. Both sites had pictures, but none of them featured his face. He was grateful that he had enough hair to obscure his face so that he could avoid unprofessional-looking cropping.

He got more male clients than female clients, but the disparity between the two wasn’t too high, particularly since he was able to choose which clients he spent the night with. Just because he was selling his body, he didn’t have to settle for the first person to wave money in front of his nose. Most people who knew about his line of work tended to assume otherwise. He got enough inquiries to pretend that he had standards.

Tonight’s client was a man who had been particularly elusive about his identity. The only identifying information he had given was the alias “Monsieur O” and the fact that he would be wearing a red and white rose in his lapel. Touga would have normally turned down the request, but M. O had offered to meet in a public hotel lobby. Along with offering to pay double Touga’s usual rate, he had also offered free dinner at a restaurant of Touga’s choice. It wasn’t unusual for clients to take Touga out to dinner beforehand, but Touga had expensive taste. If this man was willing to pay, Touga intended on making him spend more on dinner than most clients did on the whole night. It had partially been a deterrence tactic, to drive away a suspicious client. But M. O had agreed, which intensified Touga’s curiosity, making the offer impossible to turn down.

The lobby of the five-star hotel was swarming with potential Monsieur O’s standing alone. However, Touga saw no one with a red and white rose on his lapel. Most of the single men in the lobby were probably just waiting on a driver or an important business call. But surely a few others were looking for company. If M. O got cold feet and didn’t show up, Touga wasn’t worried about finding another client if he absolutely needed to.

The man in the striped suit and jade green glasses who was trying to flirt with the bellhop seemed easy enough to win over. He was gaunt and gangly, but the way he was dressed led Touga to believe that he was part of the fashion world. Touga had slept with a handful of fashion designers before, and they usually made good conversationalists. Besides, from what he could hear from across the room the man was British, which would allow him to practice his English. He hadn’t been able to use it in a while, and he was worried about getting rusty. He liked the way being a polyglot gave him the opportunity to go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

“Waiting for someone?” a woman asked.

She had dark skin and violet hair, piled up onto her head in a glamorous updo. She wore a tight red dress with a swooping neckline. Many of the more uptight people in the lobby probably would have considered it scandalous if not for the floor-length skirt that trailed behind her, almost like a wedding dress.

“I’m just meeting a friend,” Touga said.

The young woman smiled knowingly. Touga actually wasn’t sure if "young woman" was the proper word to use for her. She didn’t look much older than sixteen or seventeen, at the most. But the fact that she was alone, practically drowning in diamonds and gold, led Touga to believe she must have been older. The fact that she didn’t seem to be even slightly concerned about being robbed or taken advantage of only added to his confusion.

“And what about you?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for a friend as well,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

Touga wasn’t sure why this woman felt the need to reassure him that her friend was coming soon. It wasn’t as if they were both waiting on the same person.

“May I ask your name?” She asked.

“Of course, you can call me Don Barrymore,” he said.

Touga could tell from the way that she smiled that she knew it was a fake name.

“You can call me Rose,” she said.

Touga wasn’t sure if she had put special emphasis on the phrase “you can call me” or if he was just feeling paranoid.

“Rose, there you are!” a low voice called from a few feet away.

Touga turned to see the living embodiment of the old adage “tall, dark, and handsome” come strolling over to Rose. He wore a sleek modern suit, ebony black and razor-sharp. Probably Dolce & Gabbana, if Touga had to guess the designer. It definitely wasn’t something he had bought off the rack. Touga actually wasn’t sure if there was anything that a man with legs as long as that could buy off the rack.

Despite his good looks, the most intriguing thing about this man was the red and white rose pinned to his lapel. Was this man really M. O? Touga had come to expect a certain sort of client and this man definitely didn’t fit the bill.

“Has my friend arrived yet?” Rose asked.

“Your friend?” The man chuckled. “Yes, he’s right over there.”

He pointed at a balding middle-aged man in a suit, looking hungrily at Rose from across the room. Rose walked over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He took her by the arm and led her over to the elevator.

The potential M. O watched her leave and then turned towards Touga.

“Don Barrymore?” he asked.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting you to look anything like this, M. O,” Touga said.

“Is that a compliment?” M. O asked with a grin. There was not a single doubt in Touga’s mind that he knew damn well that it was.

“If you’d like it to be,” Touga said. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you know that woman?”

“Rose?”

Touga nodded. “Are you two close?”

“You could say that,” M. O said. “But let's not focus on her right now. I came here to see you tonight.”

“Seems like you might have a vested interest in her as well,” Touga said.

He was trying to sound playful, but it was becoming clear that this M. O was no ordinary client. It seemed to Touga like there was a very good chance that he could have been Rose’s pimp. It was the only reasonable explanation for everything Touga had seen that night. But it didn’t seem like a very good business model to be spending the night with a prostitute while your own prostitute was out with someone else. Not only was it financially reckless, but it probably put the poor girls’ safety in jeopardy.

Touga cared very little to what happened to the woman that he had just met, but he was hesitant to spend the night with a man who seemed to think so little of people in his line of work.

“Are you always this interested in your clients’ personal lives, Mr. Barrymore?” M. O asked.

“No, but can you really blame me for wanting to know a bit more about you when you’ve given me so little information about yourself?” Touga asked.

“You’re worried about your safety?” M. O asked. “Don’t be. You’ll be in good hands tonight.”

“I don’t doubt that, but forgive me if I’m a bit suspicious of this whole situation after what I just saw,” Touga said.

“You’re wondering why I would spend the money I just made off her on you, aren’t you?” M. O asked.

He spoke quietly enough not to draw anyone’s attention, but Touga still felt nervous. This man was arrogant, dangerously so. While Touga wouldn’t have minded that if neither of them had anything to lose, he was beginning to get the feeling that he was the only one risking anything in this situation.

“I can promise you that I won’t be losing any money tonight,” M. O said. “My dear Rose can do things most girls can’t.”

“Such as?” Touga asked.

He was intrigued by the fact that M. O was talking about not just what this girl was willing to do, but what she was physically capable of doing. Maybe she was a contortionist, or she was specially trained in some obscure kink that Touga had never heard of before. The possibilities were endless.

“Why am I starting to get the feeling you’d rather be spending the night with her?” M. O asked facetiously.

“I can assure you that isn’t true,” Touga said.

“You can save pageantry for your more insecure clients. I don’t need you to stroke my ego,” M. O said.

“Then what do you want me to stroke?” Touga asked.

That made M. O smile. “I’ve changed my mind. The theatricality works for you.”

This man seemed more interested in playing cat and mouse games than anything else. Touga decided to test the waters and see if that was true before he left the hotel lobby with him.

“You’re lucky that you’re buying me dinner, otherwise I wouldn’t let you talk to me this way,” Touga teased.

“Oh really? Do you take this sort of attitude with all your clients, or just the highest paying ones?”

“Just the ones who seem to want it.”

“You’re very perceptive, I like that.”

“In a man, or in an employee?”

“Even more perceptive than I thought.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is starting to seem like a job interview.”

“No, that’s after dinner.”

“Then what are we still doing here?”

“Bantering,” M. O said. “But if you’ve gotten as tired of that as I have, then I’ll have the valet bring my car around.”


End file.
